


I am Become Death

by QueenSabriel



Category: Old Kingdom - Garth Nix
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 02:52:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6102424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenSabriel/pseuds/QueenSabriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Abhorsen's business was with the dead, except for when it was not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I am Become Death

It was an eerily familiar scene; the farmer’s blood splashed across the broken Charter stone, her body crumpled at the base, throat slashed. Her husband’s body lay beside her in much the same state. The feel of death hung heavy and cloying in the air and even the chickens in the yard were quiet as though they could sense it as well. Sabriel stood some ways from the stone, watching it warily. Beside her, Lirael took a shuddering breath.

The leader of Sabriel’s mages—the tall, sharp faced Zen—came jogging over to her.  “Abhorsen,” they said. “There’s no sign of the younger children, it’s possible they were able to flee into the woods.”

“You caught up with the riders?” Sabriel asked. “And restrained them?”

Zen nodded. “And their leader. You’ll want to see this, majesty.”

Sabriel motioned for them to lead the way. She looked down briefly at Lirael, who frowned deeply before the two of them followed Zen across the muddy yard and around behind the barn. Back there the half dozen guards had restrained five gruff looking bandits—and a man of around twenty who bore too much resemblance to the farmer and her husband to be anyone but one of their children.

When he saw Sabriel the young man smirked, getting to his feet and tilting his chin up proudly despite his bound hands. Sabriel’s expression did not falter as she stepped close to him, brushing his hair back to reveal a scab where his Charter mark should have been—had once been. It fell away when she touched his forehead, and he winced through his smirk. Now all that was left in the middle of his brow was an angry, twisted, and angular sign.

“You fancy yourself a necromancer,” Sabriel said quietly.

Another smirk. “Yes ma’am.”

“It’s Abhorsen.” She stepped back. “Where are your little siblings.”

“Dunno,” he said, shrugging. “But I’ll find them. I’ll continue my work.”

“Your work?” Sabriel said. “You murdered your parents and broke a Charter stone, what kind of work is that?”

In response the young man grinned, holding his bound wrists out and turning his arms so Sabriel could see the mark branded into the skin of his forearm. “The servants of Kerrigor will thank me,” he said. “You can lock me in prison, you can kill me but the others will find me and free me!”

Silence for a full minute after that. Sabriel hoped her face did not show her surprise. She looked past the young man to Zen, who held her gaze. Their face showed no emotion either, though they did speak. “Kerrigor is gone.”

“He is not,” said the young man. “He sleeps, beneath Abhorsen’s house.” He looked to Sabriel. “And your defenses are not as impenetrable as you might think. We will get to him, we will raise him again, you cannot stop me, Death is _my_ servant!”

Sabriel drew her sword and rested the tip of it against his throat. “Is it?”

“I have raised hish, vlaith, and mordicant,” the man said, swallowing but not flinching back. “I have broken _three_ Charter stones with help from no one and I am not yet twenty-five! Death. Is. My. Servant!”

At the last word his bonds snapped with a hiss and sizzle of Free Magic. He lunged forward, grabbing the blade of Sabriel’s sword with his bare hands, snarling as he tried to wrench it from her hands. Sabriel grunted, pulling away. She got the sword free and with one swift motion stabbed it up through his torso. He fell forward, leaning in towards her with a wide-eyed look of shock as his eyes began to glaze over.

“You think Death is your servant?” Sabriel whispered. “Prove it.” And as the man’s spirit slipped into Death, frost crackled over her skin and hair as she followed.

***

The first thing Sabriel heard upon entering Death however was her sister’s voice shouting, “What are you doing?!”

“Lirael…” Sabriel turned, sword in one hand, Kibeth in the other. “If you’re coming, come, but don’t just stand there.” She rang the bell and the man’s spirit began to trudge ahead of her further into Death.

“What are you doing?” Lirael asked again, though she hurried to catch up with Sabriel.

Sabriel frowned. “Do you think our dungeons are filled with all the necromancers I ever encountered? This man killed his own parents, and Charter knows how many others. He broke Charter stones and would willingly bring Kerrigor back to power. He would have killed me without hesitating, and you. Part of keeping the Dead where they belong is dealing with people like this, and unfortunately those encounters cannot always end with them changing their ways…in fact they rarely do.”

Lirael paused to look at her, mouth set in a sad frown.

“I don’t like it,” Sabriel said quietly. “There is much about this job I do not like. But I want…I need my people to be safe, and this is part of that.”

They walked in silence the rest of the way. Nothing rose, nothing bothered them. When two Abhorsens walked, no Free Magic beast or dead spirit would dare cross their path. The spirit of the necromancer trudged before them, silent and unprotesting though he still carried his head high as he had in life.

Sabriel did not speak again until they had reached the final precinct. Lit by the eerie glow of the Ninth Gate, she said to the man, “Look up. All things have a time to die and now is yours.”

And he did. He moved as though to struggle against the pull, but powerful as he was, the Ninth Gate was stronger. Lirael watched the spirit lifted off its feet, but she kept her eyes downward—until she realized Sabriel was looking up towards the heavens. Instinctively Lirael grabbed her sister’s hand. “Sabriel!”

“It’s all right,” Sabriel said, looking back down. “It’s not my time.”

“Then why did you get to decide it was his?” Lirael asked.

Sabriel ducked her head and started back towards the Eighth Gate. It was some time before she answered Lirael, thought finally she said, “Because necromancers are inimical to life. And though we as Abhorsens know death better than any living thing—it is life that we ultimately protect. The lives of his siblings who I pray are all right. The lives of any others he might have harmed in his mad quest to resurrect Kerrigor. All the balance he would have undone.”

“You don’t know that he would have done those things,” Lirael said.

“No, but I know what his intent was,” Sabriel replied. “And I know what he had already done.”

Lirael looked at her. “I still wish you didn’t have to do it. There has to be a way.”

“I hope you find one,” Sabriel said with a sad smile. “It would make you a better person than I, and that is ultimately the greatest wish of any teacher for their student.”

Lirael came to a stop then, unshed tears in her eyes. “You’re my sister,” she whispered, reaching for Sabriel as though they weren’t standing knee deep in the river of death. “You’re not a bad person.”

“I know.” Sabriel hugged her for a moment. “But I still want you to be a better one.” She kissed the top of her head, then took her hand and together they walked back towards life. 


End file.
